The ringing phone had created a frozen moment in the interrogation room. Everyone suspended in that crystallized instant attention focused on the device in the lawyer's hand, on the name displayed on the screen that had made the lawyer's professional neutrality crack slightly, had made his expression shift in ways that suggested this call was significant, was meaningful, was potentially the final piece in whatever puzzle was being assembled around the complete destruction of Marcus Chen's position. The lawyer the senior partner, the one with graying temples and decades of experience written into the lines around his eyes looked at the screen for just a moment longer. Processing, Calculating. His thumb moved—deliberate motion, accepting the call, bringing the phone to his ear with a movement that was practiced, professional, but that carried within it a subtle tension that suggested he knew this conversation was going to be difficult, was going to be significant, was going to change

He was fully committed to the narrative now had constructed an alternate reality where he and David were the victims, where law enforcement and Raymond were the villains, where everything that was happening was persecution rather than prosecution, was politically motivated attack rather than simple consequence of documented crimes."And they are going to pay for all of these things that they are doing," Marcus continued, his voice climbing toward something approaching a shout. "For even arresting my son. For bringing him here. For treating him like a criminal when he's clearly the victim. For the physical and emotional trauma they've inflicted. For the damage to his reputation and our family's standing. They are going to pay severely for it. Financially. Professionally. We're going to destroy their careers the way they're trying to destroy my son."He paused—breathing heavily, his chest heaving from the exertion of his tirade, his eyes bright with fury and vindictive anticipation, cle